Page 3 of Sizzling Desire

Everyone seems effortlessly in sync, like they belong here, like they’re part of something bigger. Meanwhile, I’m the outsider pretending this celebration doesn’t make me hyper-aware of my own cracks.

I take a slow breath and tighten my grip on my drink, scanning the room for Kate. She’s probably somewhere laughing, glowing, the epitome of someone who has her life together. I should be happy, and Iam, for Kate. But no amount of glittering lights, congratulatory toasts, or colorful drinks can drown out the nagging tension inside me. Maybe it’s the alcohol humming in my veins. Maybe it’s the way I keepcatching glimpses ofhimin my peripheral vision, like a shadow I can’t shake.

I take another sip of my electric-blue cocktail, the sweetness cloying, and turn without looking. Big mistake. I walk straight into a wall of muscle, my drink splashing upward and soaking the front of the person’s shirt.

“Seriously, Gracie?” a deep, gravelly voice rumbles above me.

I don’t even need to look up to know who it is. Of course. Ofcourse, it’s Kane Mitchell. Because fate has a sick sense of humor.

“Maybe you should watch whereyou’regoing,” I snap, looking up to find him glaring down at me, his broad chest now streaked with blue. His stupidly handsome face is set in an expression of exaggerated patience, like he’s dealing with a particularly unruly child.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he drawls, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Did my standing here get in the way of your inability to hold a drink?”

“Oh, don’t start with me, Candy Kane,” I bite back, using the nickname that I know he hates. “Maybe if you didn’t take up half the bar with your giant ego, this wouldn’t have happened.”

His lips curve into that infuriating grin, the one that makes me want to simultaneously scream and—ugh, I’m not even going there. “You’ve always had a knack for making an entrance, Gracie.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“What, Gracie?” He leans in, his voice dropping just low enough to send a shiver down my spine, even as I bristle. “It suits you.”

Before I can retort, Hudson’s voice booms across the roomover the microphone. “Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention for a minute?”

The bar quiets, all eyes turning to the small stage where Hudson stands, Kate by his side. She looks radiant, her hand clasped in his, her eyes wide and sparkling in the dim light. The tension between Kane and me doesn’t fade so much as it pauses, held in suspension as the moment shifts.

Hudson hands the microphone to Kate. "First," Kate begins, her voice warm and steady, "thank you all for being here tonight. This celebration isn’t just about the Bean & Bagel reopening or the launch of Kate’s Kakes. It’s about resilience, community, and how, together, we rebuild when life throws us challenges."

The room erupts in applause, and Kate holds up her hands, laughing lightly as she waits for it to settle.

"I couldn’t have done this alone," she continues, her voice softening. "When the café burned down, I thought… that was it, everything I’d worked for was gone. But you all reminded me that when we lean on each other, we’re stronger than we ever thought we could be. So, this isn’t just a celebration for me—it’s for all of us. Thank you for being my family, my support system, my community."

A lump forms in my throat as the crowd cheers again. Kate looks so composed, so sure of herself. Her words are genuine, heartfelt, and undeniably inspiring, and yet, they tug at a part of me I’d rather keep buried.

I sip my drink to distract myself, but her words settle deep, stirring thoughts I can’t ignore. I’ve always prided myself on being strong, independent, untouchable. But it’s moments like these, seeing someone else’s vulnerability celebrated, that make me question everything.

The truth is, I’ve built walls so high that even I can’t see over them anymore. Love? Trust? Dependence? Those aren’t luxuries I’ve allowed myself. Every failed relationship, everymisstep has been a reminder that counting on someone else is just setting myself up for disappointment.

As Kate continues, thanking Hudson and their friends, I can’t help but envy her. Not because her life is perfect, it’s not, but because she’s brave enough to let people in. Brave enough to believe in something bigger than herself.

A pang of guilt twists in my chest for feeling like this, but as the crowd raises their glasses and toasts to resilience, all I can feel is my own solitude pressing down on me.

Kate catches my eye and smiles, a genuine beam of warmth and love. I force a smile back, hoping she can’t see through it.

"To resilience," someone shouts, and everyone echoes the words, glasses clinking in unison.

I lift my glass half-heartedly, hoping the alcohol does something to my mood as I take another sip.

Hudson takes the microphone back from Kate and clears his throat, his voice, steady but thick with emotion, fills the room. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, Kate, and we’ve been through some serious shit together, but through it all, you’ve been my rock, my reason to keep going. I can’t imagine spending another day without you.”

The air goes still as he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. Kate’s gasp is audible even over the collective intake of breath from the crowd. Hudson drops to one knee, his hand trembling just slightly as he opens the box to reveal a ring that catches the light like a star.

“Kate Benson,” he says, his voice cracking just enough to make my throat tighten. “Will you marry me?”

The bar erupts in cheers as Kate throws her arms around him, tears streaming down her face. “Yes! Yes, of course, I will!”

Applause and whistles fill the air, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. I clap along with everyone else, agenuine smile tugging at my lips as I watch Kate’s happiness light up the room. She deserves this. She deserves every bit of joy that life has to offer.

But even in this perfect moment, I can’t shake the awareness of Kane standing too close to me. I can feel the heat of his presence, the tension between us. I’m hyper-aware of him in a way that makes my skin prickle, and my chest tighten.

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